Zhao Jing pat his head, thinking. “Well, isn’t this convenient? People of the Valley have a prominent mark on their lower backs. Were there nothing but us menfolk around, nothing could be done, but heroines of Emei happen to be present. You women won’t need to observe propriety, so you can go to a place where no one else is to check. We’ll be able to trust the heroines’ statement.”

Hearing this, the nearby Sect Leader of Emei nodded, giving no refute.

Cao Weining heard nothing, only staring at her. Once he saw her expression, he understood everything. In his impression, she had forever been a careless, happy-go-lucky young lady that knew no schemes; never before had he seen such a wan, dismal, dark look on her face.

Her smile was gone. Her big, limpid eyes looked to be missing the vigor within them, having only a cold maliciousness. She looked not at him, but at the scarred man, genuinely resembling a ghost.

He recalled what Wen Kexing had once said to him that night: Even if she might not be like what you’re imagining, even if… you will find out that you don’t actually recognize her?

How had he answered? In that instant, he was a bit distracted. He had… vowed to Wen Kexing, “Don’t worry. I know her, of course.”

Then, she moved. Her figure was extremely agile, and with but a wink, she overcame Cao Weining to come before the crowd, the scarred man bearing the brunt of it. No one had thought that she would have the guts to attack right in front of everyone.

The man saw that the arrival had no good intentions, subconsciously drawing back. She laughed coldly, abruptly raising her hand — two iron chains shot straight out of her sleeves, going for his face. He bent backwards to dodge, but the chains seemed to have souls, directly winding around his neck. “Hell has no entrance for you to charge into,” she called, sinister. “If you want to blame me, go ahead…”

Following that, she yanked the chains backwards with force, attempting to take off his head at once.

Zhao Jing bellowed angrily, unsheathing his sword to stab her. She couldn’t dodge, posturing like her life depended on it, waiting for the wide-open opportunity of his thrust to throw out a hidden weapon.

“Ah-Xiang!” Cao Weining shouted.

Caring for nothing, he flew out in front, obstructing Zhao Jing’s sword with a clang. He grabbed her hand that was tugging the chains. “Let go! Let’s go back home! Ah-Xiang, let go of him, now!”

She startled, involuntarily loosening her hand. The chains fell to the ground. Unawares, she was bodily hauled several paces away by him, after which she mumbled, “Back home?”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Back home.”